


Expecting the Unexpected

by Twisted_Mind



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Ass Play, Body Positive, Bondage, Established Relationship, Fantasy Fulfillment, Gags, Genderfluid Character, Hot Tub Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Negotiations, Nipple Play, Non-Verbal Safewords, Oral Sex, Other, Overstimulation, Post-Coital Cuddling, Rape Fantasy, Tentacle Sex, Vaginal Sex, chaos monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 05:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14888879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: Jenny knows she should probably be feeling ashamed of herself right now, but her rational brain is being strangled by sheer horniness. She gives a garbled moan when the tip of a tentacle brushes her clit.





	Expecting the Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is a piece of original fiction that I wrote for the Safe Sane Consentacle anthology's open call. It didn't make the cut, which didn't surprise me, but also doesn't feel great. But I figured, if I post it here, at least the people who are interested in this sort of story can still read it. 
> 
> Lots of love to DenaCeleste and Bunnywest, who both cheered this on like nobody's business, and to BelleAmante for the beta read. 
> 
> **Quick warning** : this contains a consensual non-consent tentacle sex scene. Trying to package this accurately was very difficult as a result, so read the tags carefully, and take care of yourselves, darlings.

 

 

The trick to dating a chaos monster, Jenny found, is expecting the unexpected. It’s easier said than done, but Lee is more than worth it. Especially on nights like this, when they walk through the door in the form of a tall, broad-shouldered man, and pick her up, murmuring, "Come on, sweet thing. I've had a hell of a day, and I know just what'll make it better."

"Oh yeah?" Jenny smiles, nudging noses and staring, fascinated by the subtle brown flecks in his startlingly green eyes. "And what's that?"

"Making you come and hearing about one of those fantasies you get all blushy over."

Even the mention of it has her turning red, but she nods. Nothing but good has ever come from telling Lee about what she wants, but it still isn't easy to talk about.

He smiles softly. “So, how you wanna come, sweet thing? In my mouth, or on my cock?”

She squeezes her thighs around his waist. “I think I wanna be filled up, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Sounds good.” He turns towards the bedroom, and she realizes he intends to carry her there.

“I can walk, you know.”

He raises an eyebrow, and grips her butt a little tighter. “Sure you can. But I like carrying you.”

She knows it's ridiculous, but just—“I'm not too heavy for you?”

He snorts, tossing her onto the bed. “Sweet thing, my daddy is a literal god. Anything short of a tonne is a cakewalk.” He unbuttons her jeans, and starts dragging them down her legs. “Besides, any healthy human man could lift you, if he cared enough to.”

It's nothing he hasn't told her before, but she's still struggling to accept that he really means it. So she nods, and lets him undress her, and he just— _knows_ , somehow, that she can’t quite believe it

“I love every inch of you, Jenny,” he murmurs, kissing down her stomach. It's deliberate; he knows she's self-conscious about her tummy, but his hands are also stroking her inner thighs and skating up her hips, distracting her with shiver-inducing touches designed to make her needy and desperate.

She parts her legs, wanting him to hurry up. “C’mon, Lee, don't tease.”

He looks at her, and drags the flat of his tongue up her folds. “How about this—you tell me one of those fantasies you have, the dark ones that embarrass you and get you off harder than anything else, and I’ll eat you out, get you ready for me. Sound good?”

It sounds like a recipe to turn her face red, but at least she doesn't have to look him in the eye. “Deal. You start.”

He huffs a laugh and gives her a single, teasing lick. And then waits. “So, like. You know how you can shapeshift?”

He hums a yes against her clit, and she bucks. “Uh, right, so. Usually you take a human shape with me, or one that's mostly-human when we're in bed. Would you, um. Would you consider shifting into something less human?”

He hums another yes, suckling at sensitive flesh. “I just. There’s something about—oh!—about the fact that you’re so much stronger than me, that you have magic.”

He looks up at her, eyebrows raised. “You’re telling me things I already know, gorgeous. I’m interested in hearing what I _don’t_ know.”

She squirms. “It’s just—this is _weird_ , okay?”

He huffs, and gets up on his elbows, taking his mouth completely out of licking range. He also ignores her resulting whine. “Jenny, I’m not human. This is already weird by most people’s standards, and you’ve never cared about that, have you?”

She’s shaking her head before he’s finished asking the question. “I love you. Other people’s backwards opinions aren’t going to change that.”

His grin makes the corners of his green eyes crinkle. “Then trust me when I say a weird sex fantasy isn’t going to change how I feel about you, okay?”

“I hate you,” she grumbles, flopping back against the bed.

He tongue flicks across her clit. “No you don’t.”

“Well, not when you do that.”

He nips her inner thigh, and she yelps. “C’mon, sweet thing. Out with it, whatever it is.”

She takes a deep breath, and then says, “So, I read this fanfic once . . .”

 

***

 

It’s Friday night, and Jenny’s so tired she’s nearly dozing in the hot tub. Lee had suggested a soak after how shit her week’s been, and she’s glad she took the suggestion, but the heat and jets have made her sleepy. She should probably get out, rinse off, and crawl into bed, but she wants to at least wait until Lee gets home. She doesn’t want to fall asleep without them.

She jerks—she wasn’t actually asleep, but five more minutes and she would’ve been—when something touches her leg. She’s startled and groggy, so it takes her a moment before she realizes—that’s not a hand. It’s not a foot or arm or any other human part, either.

It’s a tentacle.

She stares for a long moment as it wraps around her thigh, because just. It’s a _tentacle_. She looks up, and sees that it’s attached to a big, orange-coloured octopus, and that—no. She lives with a chaos monster, but this is officially over her limit for weird after the week she’s had.

“Nope,” she mutters, shaking her head. “Lee can deal with this—this is above my paygrade.”

The tentacle around her thigh squeezes once as a big green eye stares at her, and she gives it a gentle pat. Then she stands, intending to climb out of the hot tub, but a sharp tug from a second tentacle around her ankle has her plopping back into her seat with a splash. Jenny has a moment to be grateful her butt’s padded, and then scowls. “None of that, you. I’m not the one you want.”

But her second attempt to leave the tub is even less successful than her first—before she can get back on her feet, there’s a tentacle curling up each of her calves, gripping her thighs and holding her in place. “You’re very cute, but you gotta let me up.” She reaches out to try and unwind the tentacle from her left thigh, only to have her wrist caught by another orange-and-brown-speckled limb.

Jenny takes a deep breath. Everything will be okay, she just needs to get out of the hot tub, and into the house. “Look, I need you to let me go, okay?” she murmurs soothingly. “I’m not mad at you, but I need to—”

Apparently it doesn’t want to hear about how she needs to leave, because the next thing she knows, there’s a tentacle wrapping around her neck and shoving into her mouth. It’s not tight, but the grip around her neck is firm, and it presses down on her tongue so she can’t speak. Worry and arousal bloom in her stomach at that. She likes being gagged, but doesn’t know what to do here, how to communicate with the giant cephalopod that somehow appeared in her hot tub when she can’t even talk to it.

So Jenny does the only thing she can think of—she relaxes, leaning back against the seat of the hot tub. She isn’t strong enough to break free and she can’t call out, but she isn’t scared. So far, the creature seems more aggressively friendly than anything.

For a moment, neither of them move. Then, another tentacle finds her right hand, brushing across the palm. Once, twice, three times, until she suddenly thinks, _they want to hold hands_ , before she closes her fingers over it. The tentacle she’s holding loops itself around her forearm, holding her back, and gives a little squeeze. It makes her feel better, having something to hold onto, and a way to communicate.

She’s not sure what she’s expecting, but it isn’t for the tentacles around her legs to start moving. They pull, so that she’s sitting with her knees splayed wide, before gripping her tightly and pressing rhythmically. Jenny doesn’t know why, can only imagine that the texture of fleshy thighs must be interesting to it for some reason, but she does know it’s affecting her—her legs are sensitive, and she has to time her breaths so she doesn’t squirm.

But she can’t help jerking in its hold when the tip of yet another tentacle slides between her legs, brushing against her mons through her bikini bottoms. The grip on her arms and legs tightens, and then the touch comes again. Jenny whines, but doesn’t buck this time—she can’t, not with the way she’s being held.

A second tentacle joins the one between her legs, and they both pluck and slide and prod curiously. It seems innocent, even playful, but Jenny can feel herself becoming a completely different kind of wet. She has a moment to hope that the tentacles don’t actually pull her bathing suit off before they worm their way under it, instead, and she groans.

The prodding becomes more pronounced, sliding back and forth over her pubic hair in a petting motion. It seems fascinated by the texture. Jenny knows she should probably be feeling ashamed of herself right now, but her rational brain is being strangled by sheer horniness. She gives a garbled moan when the tip of a tentacle brushes her clit.

The creature pauses, and she squeezes the limb in her right hand in reassurance. It gives her legs a little squish in response, and then continues exploring. She squirms when the tentacle inside her bikini bottoms moves over her clit again—and, after a pause, again. And again. It’s such a strange feeling, so different to touching herself or any of the toys she has, and it makes her _want_.

She’s so fixated on the undulations over her clit that she jerks in surprise when the second tentacle slides down the crease of her thigh to prod between her cheeks. A moment later, it prods again, and she’d curse if she could when the one that had been playing with her clit slides downward, too. She’s worked up now, and it wouldn’t have taken much longer before she came, if the creature had been less interested in exploring than in doing more of what it had been.

But before Jenny can work up some real disgruntlement, there’s a tentacle tip carefully wriggling her labia open, and then inside her, and it’s. She doesn’t know how to describe it. It’s moving slowly, probing like it’s trying to map her insides, and while it’s gentle, it’s not _small_ , especially when it pushes deeper and she has to stretch around the arm rather than just the tip. She’s rocking into it, trying to ease the ache to come when she registers the stroking over her pucker.

Her breath catches, because what . . . what if it pushes into her ass, too? She doesn’t know how to feel about the idea—she’s already so full with one tentacle twisting inside her cunt, writhing as it works more of the arm into her—it’s scary, but it’s. It’s exciting, too.

She doesn’t really get to consider it further, though, because the cephalopod—finally satisfied with how much tentacle it’s stuffed her with—proceeds to attach a suction cup _directly over her clit_. And then pushes back inside her, tugging on the limb that’s suctioned to her, before doing it a second time, more forcefully, and—

She shrieks.

It’s so intense and so foreign that it only takes a handful of thrusts before orgasm rolls over her. Her back arches and her breath hitches around her gag as the thrusting tentacle keeps going, as she rides wave after wave of pleasure until she goes limp, trembling. Even then, the creature doesn’t stop—although, mercifully, the limb’s frantic rocking slows.

For a while, it’s nice. It reminds her of the times Lee has a flesh cock, when they wait until after she’s come to chase their own completion. It sends delicious aftershocks skittering up her spine and down her legs and across her skin until she realizes, too late, that the creature isn’t going to stop, and she doesn’t want it to. The gentle rocking and insistent pressure have her craving a second round, even though she’s not sure she can come again. She was tired _before_ she got the fucking of a lifetime from overly-friendly marine life.

As if sensing her thoughts, the tentacle buried in her cunt flexes, pushing against her g-spot and turning the pleasure simmering in her pelvis into something sharper. Jenny moans, and the creature does again, harder this time. The motion tugs at her clit, and the muscles in her legs start to tense.

 _I guess we’re gonna see if I can manage a second one_ , Jenny thinks.

But, as good as it feels and as patient as the cheeky cephalopod seems to be, she’s tired, and coming twice in a row is hard. Everything feels like too much—while simultaneously being not enough. It’s good, it’s so good, the pleasure sharp and hot, but it’s almost too good—dialled up so high there’s nowhere for her to go, no way to build to another orgasm. She tries to just enjoy it for what it is.

She’s a little confused when she feels her left hand being pulled. She goes with the motion, curious when the creature pauses at her chest. She’s not sure why. Not until it drags her hand up and down her breast. She doesn’t know if that’ll help, but she’s already a quivering heap of overloaded nerves, so why not?

Jenny plucks at her nipple, and groans when it makes her gut tighten. She does it again, and clenches around the tentacle still rippling inside her. She keeps at it, because second orgasm or not, she’s riding the edge of almost-but-not-quite-overwhelmed she’s learned she enjoys. She knows she can’t handle it for long, that she’ll probably hit oversensitive soon and have to tap out, but for now it still feels good, so she’ll savour it while she can.

She jolts when the second tentacle between her legs reminds her it’s there by teasing her rim, petting with the tip before prodding firmly. She moans, trying to talk around her gag because she doesn’t—she doesn’t know if she can take that, too. She’s already filled beyond what she thought she could take. The thought’s exciting, but she doesn’t know if the reality will be anything like pleasant.

But that doesn’t stop her eight-armed lover from squirming the tip inside her. It doesn’t go deep, thankfully, but the non-stop movement, the undulation against sensitive skin, and the way it makes her tighten around the tentacle in her cunt have her suddenly desperate for the second climax she’s absolutely sure she can reach, now. She rolls her nipple and sucks on the appendage in her mouth as she strains, trying to will herself to come.

She’s not sure what does it—whether it’s a well-timed pinch of her nipple, or a particularly sharp thrust against her g-spot, or the tiny, insistent nudges of the tentacle in her ass—but she comes, and it’s so intense it nearly hurts. Her eyes roll back and her lungs squeeze as every muscle in her body locks. She thinks she bites down, but she can’t be sure.

She doesn’t know how long it lasts, but when it’s over, she sags into its hold, spent. She pants, trying to catch her breath and slow her racing heart, dimly aware of how carefully she’s set down in the seat she started out in, her head lolling against the edge of the hot tub. The tentacles unwind from her gently, all except the one in her right hand, and she feels it go soft, and then reshape into a hand.

“I guess I don’t have to ask if you enjoyed that, huh?”

Jenny rolls her head to look into the brown-flecked green eyes she loves, because they’re always the same, no matter Lee’s form. She smiles. “Top marks, A+ tentacle fucking,” she slurs.

They laugh, smoothing her hair away from her face. “You okay, sweet thing?”

She snorts. “I have, like, the worst case of jelly legs on the planet, so you’re gonna have to carry me inside, but other than that? I’m great.” She pauses for a moment. “Also really glad about the whole magic thing, because fucking in hot tubs? Not hygienic.”

Lee laughs, pulling her against their chest to settle her in their lap. They’re smooth, she notices. No breasts, but no hair, either. No dick under her butt. It’s an androgynous day, probably. Then she remembers what she was saying. “But no, really. Sex in hot tubs with humans is bad. Super-glad you’re magic. Yeast infections suck.”

They drop a kiss on her temple. “You know I wouldn’t let something so terrible happen to you.”

She tilts her face up for a proper kiss. She might’ve just had the best sex of her life, but she didn’t get any kisses, which needs to be fixed right away. They oblige, happy to let her be as greedy for kisses as she wants. Because they’re the best.

The two of them sit quietly for a while, cuddling in the heat of the tub.  Jenny’s the one to break the silence. “Thank you for this.”

Lee presses her tightly against them. “Thank you for trusting me enough to let me give you that. Even if it was something you wanted, I know that was still a little scary.”

She thinks about it for a moment. “I mean, not really? You made sure I could tap out if I needed to. And an octopus isn’t scary.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” They pause, and their tone lightens. “And good. I figured that was probably best for this.”

Jenny remembers being told about their father’s natural form, and finds herself doubly grateful they went with recognizable marine life. “You’re too good to me,” she sighs.

“Nope!” they chirp, standing and bringing her with them. “I’m exactly as good to you as you deserve.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested, I can also be found on [Tumblr](https://www.queerfictionwriter.tumblr.com/).


End file.
